


On Edge

by coffeethyme4me



Category: White Collar
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-03
Updated: 2010-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-09 10:45:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeethyme4me/pseuds/coffeethyme4me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phone sex!  Peter pushes Neal past his limits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Edge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asimaiyat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asimaiyat/gifts).



> Don't own jack.

"Are you there?"

"Yeah. Peter, what's this about?"

Peter clears his throat, feeling a little guilty, but not enough to stop. Neal is in an alley, on the edge of his two mile radius, on Peter's whim. Peter watches the little blip on the screen from his laptop and pinches his lips to keep from smiling. He's already aroused, and he spreads his legs as much as he can in the mid-sized car, giving his growing dick room.

"Are you alone?" Peter asks him, moving the cell phone to his left hand so that his right can slip down and squeeze his crotch.

"You know you didn't have to plan a surprise party, Peter. My birthday isn't for two more months anyway."

And Peter can just picture his Neal in the alley, looking around in the darkness, wondering if Peter has lost his mind, and trying to feel safe inside his wit.

"Do you trust me, Neal?" he asks.

There's only a short pause. Baby steps. It's been two years on Peter's leash, and Neal, for the most part, has been a very good boy. His slip-ups are rather minor, considering. And Peter hopes Neal knows, finally, really knows that he would die for him, his sweet Neal.

"Yes, Peter," is the soft reply. It goes right down between Peter's legs. It fills him up, with pride, with desire.

"I want you to put your earpiece in. Can you do that first?" Peter asks, voice patient, cock not.

"Sure, Peter, hold on."

Peter waits through the fumbling, doing a little fumbling of his own to get his fly undone, to give himself more growing room.

"Okay," Neal says brightly. Even though he's in a dark alley and has no idea what's going on.

Peter smiles fondly at how, even now, he strives to be good. He breathes deep and goes for it. Now or never.

"Unbutton your shirt and pinch your sweet nipples for me, Neal," he says, cock jumping at the thought.

"What?!" Neal shrieks, then quieter, "Here??"

"Yes, Neal. Right there. Take those beautiful hands and squeeze down on those hot little nipples. Right now." Then he adds, because he knows what it will do, "For me."

There's the slight pause again. But then Peter hears that hitch of breath. It's Neal's tit torture breathing. Peter knows it well. He knows just how much pressure, how much twisting, how much merciless rubbing will get him to breathe just like that.

"Are you getting hard? Tell me the truth."

"Um…sort of. A little," Neal says. "Peter, why…?"

"Do you trust me?"

A frustrated sigh. "Yes, Peter."

"Good," Peter says. "Then play with your cock."

More silence. Neal starts to say something, to protest, but Peter hears him think better of it. He hears that hitch again, Neal's hand wandering over his sleek chest first, then down his tight stomach. "Inside or…out?" Neal asks, swallowing.

"Oh, you'll take it out," Peter tells him, doing the same. His own cock, too thick and heavy to stand up on its own, lies curved along his hip.

"Okay…" Neal says dubiously. Peter hears the rustle of his clothes.

"Your cock and your tits. I want them bare. Now."

Neal gives a little whine. Then, "Okay, Peter."

"Are you bare?" Peter asks.

"Yes…" Neal sighs, trembling.

"Which parts?"

"My…tits and my…cock."

Peter starts pulling on his dick. Slowly. Filling it out. He can picture Neal's beautiful body now, dress shirt open and cock lazily jutting out from his open fly. He still almost can't believe it's his. The scrumptious ass, both ripe cheeks and a tight little hole, that torso…God, that's sculpted more artfully than…well, really good sculptures! The Roman shit. Peter doesn't have to know ancient art (like he knows modern art crimes) to appreciate Neal. His cock alone, slender and smooth like the rest of him, is so perfectly formed Peter just sometimes stares at it, twitching and leaking under his gaze.

"Lean against the wall and give yourself a boner for me, Neal," he says, thrilling to the knowledge that Neal will do anything he asks.

"Okay…"

Peter listens to Neal sighing. "Are you still alone?"

"Yeah. I…I think so."

"Are you playing with your dick?"

"Yes."

"Pinch the head how I like. Pinch the slit closed," Peter says, and he takes one slow, hard pull down on his cock. "Keep pinching it, hard and fast, and roll your nipple, too. You got that?"

"Yeah, Peter. Fuck… Okay."

"It's hard now. Isn't it."

Neal groans. Then Peter hears him lick his lips. He says, "It's really hard now, yeah."

"Now get your hand off your cock and pull on your nipples. Make 'em red."

Neal groans. Peter knows that now that he's got his cock up he won't want to leave it, but Neal loves Peter to work at his blushing tits, so it's not exactly the greatest sacrifice he could make. Peter pumps his cock in earnest, visualizing Neal's tits between his fingers and those fingers pulling until there's pain, until they're so hard they're distended, urging out as if to ask for more and more and then still more. Neal's nipples are yearning little sluts.

"Hard and fast, Neal. Like I do it," he says.

Neal keens, "Okay… They hurt, Peter. They're real red."

"Slap your cock."

"Whu-?"

"I said slap it, Neal."

"Oh God…" And then Peter hears the smack over the phone and Neal's accompanying high-pitched groan.

"Slap it up toward your belly a few times," Peter commands. He's pre-cuming so hard it's almost like the real deal.

"Yes…Peter…" And then there's the rhythmic sound of slapping flesh, like the sound their bodies make when Peter fucks him.

"And lick your other fingers. Make it feel like my mouth. I wanna bite your sweet tits."

Neal groans. "Okay…"

His acquiescence is as hot as the sounds he's making. The fact that he's just in an alley playing with his body just the way Peter says to has Peter's dick jumping hard in his hand, wanting, so badly, to come.

"Do you trust me?" he asks again, heart hammering on the thought.

"Yes," Neal says readily, too turned on to say anything else. He'll do anything now. Anything to come.

"Then cross the line, Neal," Peter says. "Take three steps forward and set the anklet off."

"Wh- Shit, Peter, they'll come for me!" Neal cries. "They'll find me!"

"Do you trust me?"

No words. Peter hears the desperate breathing, Neal hitting his own cock.

"Neal," he says, stroking. "Trust me." Neal takes a deep breath. Peter says, "Step over the line."

"Peter…" It's a sigh and a plea. "Yes, Peter."

Peter holds his breath until he sees the little flashing dot move slowly, one step (and Neal starts to pant), a second tentative step, "Oh shit, Peter." And then that third, trusting step. The alarm on Peter's laptop starts to go off. He knows it's going off at the U.S. Marshal's office. They'll be there in less than ten minutes. They'll call Peter anywhere between two and five minutes from now. But if they can't reach him… Peter's hand flies on his cock.

"Don't stop," he tells Neal. "Stroke it off. Keep going. For me."

"Oh God yes Peter," Neal whines. "I trust you. I trust you." Even though he can hear the fear in Neal's aroused voice.

"So good…" Peter sighs, nearly beyond words for how he feels, what this does to him. He closes his eyes, sees Neal's exposed beauty in the dark of night, over the edge, beating himself off and scared to death. Call waiting beeps in, and he lets it go, feeling his balls draw up. "I'm gonna fuck you so raw," he says, shaking. Neal makes the sweetest noise of pain. "Fuck you so raw, Neal…"

Then Peter comes. He growls as the jets of jizz spatter the steering wheel and coat his fast hand. Unintelligible words spill from his mouth and into Neal's ear. And his coming is making Neal whimper like a puppy.

"Peter, I'm gonna come."

"Wait," Peter says, trying to get his breathing to calm. His phone has beeped four times now. "Hold on, Neal. I'll be right back."

Peter puts the phone down, puts his dick away and zips his pants in record time, picks the phone back up and clicks the line over.

"Burke," he says.

"This is Agent Beauford, Agent Burke, with the U.S. Marshals. We're calling to let you know that Neal Caffrey's tracker alarm is going off and we have agents en route to intercept."

Peter gets out of the car and shuts the door, starting to walk quickly down the dark street. "Bring them back in, Agent Beauford," Peter says. "Caffrey's with me."

"Yes, sir," replies Beauford. "Thank you, sir."

"Thank you, agent," Peter says, floating on the high. He clicks back over to Neal and hears him nearly hyperventilating, whining and carrying on. Peter fills with pride, and his newly emptied cock jumps one last time.

"Do it, Neal," he says. "Come."

"Peter…yes…Peter…shit…" Then his shouts fill the phone and the air. Peter hangs up and takes the five steps more that bring him around the corner and into the alley where Neal stands, quivering, still loosing his cum out onto the asphalt, brow furrowed as if in pain and Peter's name spilling, over and over, from his bitten-red lips.

Peter walks straight into him, knocks Neal's hand away, and coaxes the last out of Neal's cock himself. He swoops his mouth in for a hungry kiss, his other hand possessively spread across Neal's back. Neal cries out into his mouth, spurting in his fist.

When he's spent, Peter replaces his mouth with his fingers, wiping Neal's cum off on his questing tongue and swollen lips. Neal eats it on a grateful moan. "Where-?" he tries, and Peter fills his mouth with three fingers.

"Thank you," he says thickly, and Neal's eyes open to look into his own. Peter withdraws his fingers from the sinful little mouth and he cups Neal's flushed face. "Thank you so much, Neal." Then he pulls Neal in, holding him close in to his body, wrapping his arms around his lover and slowly swaying. He kisses his hair. "Nobody's ever given me what you do."

It's a confession, somewhat guilty, because he tries not to make comparisons between Neal and El, who's given him so much over the years. But never this. Never ownership. He's never wanted that from her. But with Neal…he wants nothing else.

Peter slides his hands down Neal's trembling body and gently tucks away his flaccid cock. Neal whimpers again, and Peter smiles into his neck. Then he pulls back, hands resting on Neal's narrow hips, and he lets his eyes flash over Neal's tight, exposed nipples and still-heaving chest. His wide blue eyes. Peter shakes his head in wonder. "You're so beautiful, Neal…sometimes it hurts to look at you."

Neal blinks at him, stunned. And Peter takes his hand. "Come on. I'm taking you home."

 

END


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